


The Dragons’ Songbird

by jarethsdragon



Category: Overwatch (Video Game), overwatch
Genre: BDSM, Dragon sex, Dragons, F/M, Imprisonment, Kidnapping, Lots of dragons - Freeform, Multiple Partners, Oral Sex, Other, Scion Hanzo Shimada, Scion!Hanzo Shimada, Yakuza!Hanzo Shimada
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-25
Updated: 2018-05-25
Packaged: 2019-05-13 18:35:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14754114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jarethsdragon/pseuds/jarethsdragon
Summary: You are the pet of the Shimada Scion—Hanzo Shimada.  He has a very specific task for you—a task that his dragons have chosen you specifically for.





	The Dragons’ Songbird

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: This is non-consensual - rape story involving dragons.

Hanzo hummed softly to himself as he slid his crisp, white shirt out of the carved wardrobe. The white sleeveless undershirt hugged his muscular torso like a second skin without covering his legendary tattoo. He shrugged into the shirt, tugging the sleeves slightly until the expensive designer’s royal blue logo was precisely placed over his upper arm and tucked it into his bespoke pinstripe pants before he fastened the Italian leather belt.

He didn’t even look as he pulled out a royal blue silk tie and tied it under his chin. The jacket was the latest designer style—a sort of cross between a vest and a jacket that left his left shirt sleeve exposed, but covered his right arm like a jacket. He walked over to the antique full sized mirror, to adjust the tie and to pull down the jacket so that the shiny brass buttons were lined precisely over his tight abs.

Finally, he walked over to the navy Persian carpet where his dragons were chirping and purring happily. One of them looked up and gave him a brief, animal nod. He sighed heavily as he looked at the golden Rolex on his wrist, before picking up his soft, black leather gloves.

“Hurry up,” he sighed. “I have reservations.”

You saw only the polished leather of his wingtip shoes and a tiny sliver of his wool slacks as your face was shoved into the wool carpet. Glowing blue claws were spread over your head and your cheek was ground into the rough fibers as you were slammed from behind. Your hands had been tied behind your back so long that they were cramping even when you weren’t being arched into an inhuman curve by the lithe, serpentine body above you. Your spread knees had long since been rubbed raw, as had the ankle that had the electronic tracking bracelet locked around it.

The other dragon paid you no attention as he leapt to his master, but the one behind you wasn’t quite ready to let you go. The two front paws kept your face in the carpet, one back paw gripping your ass and the other firmly rooted on the floor. Its long, sinuous body curled above you as it slammed its cock into your wet cunt, thrusting with inhuman strength as it pushed with one foot and its muscular tail.

The dragon paused to stare up at his master, flicking his long, forked tongue. The Shimada Scion tapped his toe and slid on the tight leather gloves pointedly. The beast above you gave a shudder and a sigh and shoved off of you. Its claws drug against your skin, leaving long, thin welts.

“I have reservations,” the muscular man repeated slowly.

The beast seemed to think about it for a moment and then let out a harrumph. It leapt into the air and, slapping the tip of its tail across the sore skin of your ass, disappeared into its master’s arm.

Hanzo sighed as you struggled to sit up on your folded legs. With a graceful gesture, he undid the binding around your arms and they flopped forward. He lifted your hair—the hair that had grown tremendously longer since you had been hidden here at Hanamura—and reached under it for the oval shaped ring that was welded to the back of the thick stainless steel collar around your neck. 

He drug you to the small, blue ceramic bowl on the floor and shoved your face down. You grunted, sputtered and finally got your mouth open to suck in some of the water. You swished it around your teeth and mouth and when he jostled your collar, you spat it back out.

“Good girl,” he grunted, tugging you away from the bowl towards a low, steel cage. He tugged open the door and with a shove on the ring on your collar, pushed you inside. Once inside, you crawled around to face him. He stared down at you impassively and asked, “And did both my dragons come?”

You shuddered. “N-n-no, ma-master. You arrived late—.”

“Silence!” he barked, his free hand slapping your cheek. “You know what happens to you if you fail to make my dragons happy.”

You shuddered again, the crate shaking as you cringed down in the cushion lined bottom. He slid the door closed and locked it. He pulled a metal lever and you yelped as the back of the cage slid forward and then another piece slid down from the top. You were forced to curl over your bent legs with your arms folded at your sides and your hands tucked under your neck. With a final adjustment, he set the height so that your head could barely raise to turn over and locked the completely unnecessary chain to the cage and the ring in the back of your collar.

Then he glided out, closing the heavy door behind him. You waited patiently, barely able to see bottom of the grandfather clock next to your kennel. You twitched slightly, unable to move from your kneeling position in the slightest. You counted ticks, listened for the familiar Westminster chimes, and counted the tan knots in the carpet. Sometimes he rewarded you by leaving on some music or—once even he left on the television. Of course, those were the times when you had the full crate to lay down in, when you were almost comfortable as you curled up and counted the seconds until he returned. Now there was little but the rushing of the blood in your ears to keep you company.

You kept twitching and jerking as long as you were able to stay awake. Inevitably, you fell into a fretful and exhausted sleep. Your dreams were filled with blue dragons chasing after you and the indomitable scion laughing as you were captured. Such nightmares made true rest impossible, but sleep was your only escape.

He came in some time later—time was a abstract you had no way to measure since your cage was wedged behind a couch in an interior room with no windows—and hummed as he saw you sleeping curled up like a cat. Loosening his tie, he strolled over to the cage and patted it, making it rattle.

You jerked awake, whining as you realized that your arms and legs were aching with cramps. “M-m-m-master.”

He nodded, taking out an exotic looking black and gold cigarette and lighting it. “You are awake.” You nodded the small amount you were able and let out a dry whine. He puffed out a fragrant cloud and lazily unlocked the chain from your collar. “Come out, then.”

You almost fell out of the cage as he opened the wire door. He grabbed the ring and drug you the rest of the way out as you desperately tried to get your arms and legs to work. He pulled you to the bowl and you lapped at the water with noisy gulps. Too soon, he pulled you away and to the middle of the carpet.

“Now, songbird,” he nodded, letting out another puff of rich smelling smoke. “I believe you have something to finish?”

You whined softly, going back to kneeling with your face in the carpet and your ass in the air. The dragons floated from Hanzo’s arm and landed on the carpet, circling you with impatient snaps of their fangs.

Hanzo smiled down at his pets and let out another puff of smoke. He turned and went to sit on the couch, picking up a copy of the Wall Street Journal and turned to read the stock reports. You glanced up at him, whining, as the first dragon wrapped his jaws around the back of your neck. Clawed hands grabbed your shoulders and you felt the hard, hot, flared tip jabbing into your hip. The flat belly scales heated the skin of your back and the sinuous tail draped over the back of your calves.

You shook as the tip drug across your hips. There wasn’t even time for a breath before the first shove. The dragon’s cock seemed to stick halfway inside. You weren’t the least bit wet and even that little bit seemed to stretch and burn.

The little blue creature pushed off of you with an angry grunt. It chattered impatiently and you heard Hanzo’s voice float in the air. “You know what to do. She should be wet.”

The dragons circled you with snaps of their jaws. Suddenly, their tails whipped and you hoarsely yelped as the tip slapped your hips. First one, then the other, then together as they circled you. One of them growled at you, its face even with yours as its body circled yours. You looked up at the grinning teeth timidly and it was still long enough that the end of its tail smacked just where your round hip blended into your thigh. You jerked helplessly as the heated tips flailed your skin, wailing as they kept circling you and twitching as they kept slapping you.

Finally, one of them got impatient and slid under your face. Its sinewy body twisted until its cock was jabbing your face. It bucked up impatiently, the heated tip digging into your nose and cheek. You shuddered as you opened your mouth and the hard tip landed against your tongue.

For reasons only known to the gods, you still loved the scent of aroused dragons. It was no one fragrance you could name—a tinge of vanilla with the scent of the sea and a note of amber mixed with sakura perfume and cinnamon—but it did all kinds of wicked things to your body. The smell filled your nose and mouth as the creature set up a punishing rhythm into your face and it made your cheeks flush and a tingle run down your spine. It felt like someone had dumped a pot of melted honey into your veins and all the warmth and sticky settled deep into your core.

You felt your jaw stretch as the dragon’s cock plunged deeper. Instinctively, you pushed with your tongue, your throat narrowly avoiding gagging. You rolled your head until you found an angle that was somewhat comfortable as the flared tip kept digging deeper. You snorted as it thrust again, the tip sliding to the very back of your mouth.

The dragon behind sniffed your skin expectantly, and dug its snout between your thighs to begin snuffling the new smell bubbling out. It’s slightly bearded chin rubbed your clit like soft fingers, making it harden into a small ball of pleasure as it stuck it’s long tongue inside for a sibilant lick that scraped the back of your womb. It smacked your bottom with its tail—nimble creature—and pushed its snout harder into your core.

Your face bucked down onto its companion’s hard cock, your lips tightly sealed around the shaft. You slurped in a noisy breath as your face hit its hips. The cock seemed to swell in your mouth, releasing more of that smell as your spit coated its hardness. You shuddered as your nipples tightened into pebbles as they ground against the carpet.

You gasped in a breath, spit dripping from your mouth onto the scales below. The dragon at your head snorted and curled up around your head to grab your hair. With a shove, it forced your jaws to spread open and your mouth to stretch around that raging cock. You could practically feel the veins—if such creatures had veins—throbbing under your lips as it bucked.

The other dragon slapped your bottom on more time and pulled out from between your quivering thighs. Its tongue lapped at the overlapping red marks, making you squeal and grunt as the overheated muscle scraped the sensitive skin. When you were too still, too intent on giving its twin pleasure, it nipped you. You let out a garbled screech as its fangs dug into your ass, then bucked back against it.

You moaned softly as you fought for a breath. Your head was spinning and you were blindly flailing as the dragons kept on with their heady pleasures. You knew you were boiling hot and wet now, could practically feel it running down your thighs. This time, as the impatient one behind you grabbed your shoulders in its sharp claws, you arched your back, offering it what it wanted.

It slid home, deep and firm, with a sloppy and wet sound. You groaned, your arms collapsing as you felt the hot cock scrape your core all the way inside. It yanked on your shoulders, slamming its hips into yours over and over. With one dragon wrapped around your head, thrusting into your mouth and the other slamming into your core from behind, you had no way to move.

Nor did you have any desire to.

The one around your head yanked your hair with a hiss and you choked as your face was buried in its groin. There were no crisp hairs—that much was positive—but the scales felt so much hotter than any human skin. It made your lips feel almost chapped as you scraped up and down. Another stinging slap on your behind, and you pushed your ass up further as the scales heated your bottom.

Your pussy was raw with heat and friction as the dragon behind you kept thrusting. Your knees spread more, curling you up tighter around the dragon’s hard cock. It growled—the sound like electricity in your muffled ears—and you felt it shift, the cock thrusting at a subtly sweeter angle. 

You moaned as the dragon’s weight shifted—apparently two feet now on the rug behind you. The dragon wrapped around your head pulled your hair harder, trying to buck deeper into your strangled throat as your lips vibrated around its cock. Three more thrusts and hot cum spurted between your teeth.

You shuddered, your core growing tighter as you desperately tried to swallow. The seed was warm—hot, even—and had a surprising taste that stung your lips and throat like you had been eating hot peppers. You flinched as the seed made your throat burn—and whimpered as the dragon yanked your hair again. You sucked in a desperate breath, unlocking your lips from around the dragon’s cock. It relaxed slowly, pulling back more shallowly and you briefly relaxed before it drug its claws across your cheek, raising long welts. You nodded a little, loosening your lips and suckling more gently, even as your stomach flinched in remembered pain from the last time that you had not been cognizant that the dragons favored less strenuous sucking after they came.

The one behind you clawed your back again, raising another series of long raised welts and you screamed. The dragon around your head let go and rolled away from your face with a last slap of its tail across your cheek. You whined, pushing backwards as hard as you could as the second dragon slammed as hard as it could into your burning core.

Your body thrummed, shuddering as somehow the long body of the dragon bent suddenly so that it could lick your clit again even as its cock kept thrusting. With another yelp, you twisted as well, reaching down between your legs.

The contrary creature hissed and nipped at your fingers before it sank its teeth into your hip again. You yelped thrashing helplessly. You curled up into a back-breaking arch as you desperately tried to avoid cumming. It was forbidden for you to cum before the dragons, and they delighted in taking as long as they could to see if you would break for the sheer joy of watching the muscular man punish you.

The dragon knew what you were doing and grinned at its twin. Unexpectedly, the other dragon’s tail slid under your chest and scraped your tight nipples. You moaned pushing up to your hands to get away from the sibilant caress, only to have that same tail knock you back to your elbows. The dragon grunted again and unexpectedly licked the pucker of your ass, which made it tremble as all of your insides shook.

You clamped down as hard as you could, grinding furiously and jiggling against the cock as it scraped you raw. It kept nipping you here and there and giving you a garden of sharp toothed bruises. You growled low, trying to squeeze and roll your hips as its rhythm grew erratic and impatient. Finally you squeezed your thighs tighter around the narrow hips and bucked back again.

It threw back its head with an angry howl and all of its claws gripped your skin so tightly you knew that they pierced your skin. Suddenly your core was painfully full of very hot, dragon cum with that same too hot, scalding pepper feeling against your raw insides. You felt your own climax rocket through you as the tingling pepper feeling pushed you over the edge.

You were gasping and choking as you felt it pull out and drop to the carpet. It pranced away to its master as you collapsed on the rug. You huddled there bonelessly as the dragons chittered at the couch and floated up to disappear on their master’s skin.

He hummed slightly, folding his paper with precision before setting it down beside the Waterford crystal ashtray. Finally he glanced at you and said, “They said that you did well.”

You nodded shakily at the comment as he stood up and walked over to you. He grabbed the ring on the back of your collar and pulled on it. “Come.” He watched as you struggled to get to your hands and knees. You flushed as a thick, white drop hit your thighs. “Keep their seed inside you. It is what you are here for—holding their priceless cum inside you and not staining my floors.”

He led you to the exquisite bathroom as you clenched your core to avoid staining the rug with the dragons seed. You shuddered nervously and wearily watched as he slid off his costly watch and jacket before rolling up his sleeves. He pulled the shower nozzle on its thick hose down and turned on the water, adjusting it with twists of the knob until he found the temperature he was looking for.

“Hands and knees,” he grunted with a tug on your collar.

You nodded shortly and shook as you went back to your sore knees. He let the water spray all over your weary body. You were thankful it was warm this time—he sprayed you down with freezing cold water when you annoyed him and that always left you gasping and crying—and sagged as he stroked your skin gently.

He picked up a thick bar of soap and rubbed it in his palm until he had a handful of suds. Impersonally, he spread the soap over your skin. You hissed as he worked his way down your flanks and the soap stung your welts and scrapes. “You will be a fine mess tomorrow,” he frowned. “If you had pleased them better, you would not be so scraped up.”

“Yes, Master.”

“I expect you to do better.”

“Yes, Master.”

You bit your lip as he rinsed the offending suds away. All the way from your neck to your feet, he soaped and rinsed you slowly. Finally, he washed your hair, lathering it up and rinsing it like you were a mongrel.

He passed you a washcloth for your face and waited as you scrubbed your cheeks and rinsed the last of the burning feeling from your tongue and teeth. There was not a flicker of anything on his face as you gulped a little of the shower water to rinse and spit to get the taste out of your mouth.

He took the washcloth and waited. You hated this bit, but you silently laid on your sore back in the tub and spread your bent knees. Impersonally, he spread your intimate lips and pressed a finger against your abused hole. You couldn’t help but whine as some of the hot cum dripped out, burning against your raw flesh.

“Finally,” he muttered. “I thought that you’d never please him.” You whimpered as he left his finger right at your entrance. Your core still felt swollen and full and you shifted restlessly, whimpering. “I should leave you full—it’s what they chose you for, after all—but it is the 14th.”

You whined, crying out as he pressed his fingers slid into your entrance and scissored open, letting the thick hot stuff drip out. Setting down the shower head so that it sprayed between your legs, he held you open and pressed down low on your belly. The stinging stuff left you with a squirt and washed away in the spray. You felt hot tears sliding down your cheeks as he kept scissoring his fingers and pressing down, pushing the last of the cum out of you.

Without emotion, he rinsed you clean down there, holding you open with two fingers to spray a little of the water up inside you and relieving the sting. You laid there, staring up at the pale cream and tan tiles in the ceiling above you, as tears ran down your face.

The 14th.

You did not know how long ago it was, but Hanzo had been slightly ill with the flu that everyone seemed to be catching. That entire day, he had left you outside of your cage with the restless dragons, leashed by your collar with the chain carelessly wrapped and locked around a leg of the couch. When he returned, he had a paper bag filled with paper wrapped packages of teas and three poultices that were to be applied to his chest daily and a carefully handwritten list of suggestions and recommendations.

Sojiro had even appeared in the suite, ignoring you as the dragons tangled their bodies around yours lewdly, and they had spoken softly. The Shimada Scion simply never fell ill and had only gone to see the apothecary to ensure his health. It was as though Sojiro expected that by simply saying so, the whole thing went away and his son’s reputation of an almost inhuman strength and virility and health was again unblemished.

Hanzo merely nodded regally and wished his father good evening. He moved things around to make himself comfortable on the immense couch and had a cup of hot tea brought to him. Then he laid back on the couch wearing only a worn thin pair of sweatpants with the poultice on his chest and began reading the paper as his dragons fucked you raw.

Thereafter, every 14th and 28th, he would wait until you pleased his dragons and then have you himself. He had originally put the note in his schedule on the 15th and the 30th, but with everyone else in all of Japan being paid on those days and thus paying their protection money on those days, he was extraordinarily busy and he actually missed the first time or two before deciding to move it back a few days.

Now it was another light blue box on his calendar. Another appointment to keep. He would clean you up, dry you off, and then take you himself. Everyone—even the noisy, gossipy maids that came in to clean up the suites—had been told that it was a recommendation to help his virility. Whether or not they believed it was not something anyone ever actually said out loud, but since Sojiro was actively arranging a marriage it was not actively refuted.

He toweled you off, squeezing the water out of your hair and brushing the last drops of water from your skin. He showed no emotion, no adoration, no desire. He could have been washing dishes for all the emotion that he showed—as if the Shimada Scion ever did dishes.

You shuddered as he led you to the couch. Most casually, he sat down in the middle of the couch and leaned back so that his hips bucked forward. He looked up at you expectantly, his face expressionless.

You knelt slowly with a soft whimper, your eyes wide and shaky. If only it were not the 14th. Without a word, you undid the leather belt. His wool suit pants felt almost soft after being scraped against the carpet for so long. He sucked in a breath so that his rock hard abs moved in enough that you could slide the mottled button through the buttonhole, undid the hidden hook and slid down the noiseless zipper. He watched as you pulled open the cotton underwear open without so much as smirking at you.

He wasn’t even hard. Not at all.

You whispered softly, “Is there...something wrong?”

He shrugged and grunted, “Neither of us need to enjoy this. It is only the 14th.” 

You gave him a glance and saw him nod shortly before half-closing his eyes. With a sigh, you stuck out your tongue as far as it could go and began to lick the tip. Your finger were slender and nimble as you began teasing the shaft.

Thankfully, he seemed to like that tonight—if he didn’t, he had no problem punishing you in some terrible and elegant way that left no trace. It seemed like he believed that leaving a mark himself was beneath him. Sometimes on these scheduled days, he came in aroused already, easy for you to dip your head and take him in your mouth. Other days, as you dipped your head you smelled the saline and bitter scent of his seed that covered his crotch and he jerked as though his skin was extra sensitive. Those days he took what felt like hours to arouse and came with only a few bitter drops in your mouth. Those days you wondered who it was that he had desired and if he enjoyed them more than he was enjoying you. Assuming he could enjoy anyone’s company.

You licked his growing cock like a lollipop, listening closely for any sound. Wrapping your fingers around it, you took the tip in your mouth and risked a quick glance up. His eyes were half-closed and his head was thrown back so that he was looking at the wall instead of you. You suckled quietly, taking the first half into your mouth, watching his face in the hopes it would warn you before he decided to punish you.

You pulled your cheeks in, sucking hard. He looked at the far wall behind you, his lips moving silently. Curious, you paused, trying to figure out what he was commanding.

Instantly, his eyes flashed and he glowered down at you. Grabbing your hair, he yanked your head down, driving his cock down your throat. The hand on the back of your head kept your face forced down on his lap. The carefully trimmed, crisp and curling hairs tickled your lips and brushed your nose. You took in a gasp of air and desperately tried to relax your gagging and shuddering throat as he drove himself even deeper.

“Do not interrupt my thoughts,” he commanded bitterly as he pushed your face down into his lap. When you resumed your bobbing and sucking, his hands relaxed.

You risked another glance up and again he seemed far away. His almond eyes were distant again, not focused on you at all. You could barely see the dark, blown wide irises. Your head bounced up and down steadily and with a grunt, he dropped his hand from your head. His hands fell to his sides and you could feel as his focus went elsewhere.

You kept suckling, running your tongue up and down the shaft. Your lips latched on to his skin as you bobbed up and down. Your fingers brushed the rosy skin at his base, threaded through the little curls and dipped to touch the pebbly skin covering the hardened balls.

He softly sighed, “Yes.”

If your weary mouth was not already stretched wide around his shaft and chocking on the meaty tip, you might have smiled at the sibilant, hissing sound, the unwilling encouragement. You swallowed heavily, your throat massaging out a few salty, bitter drops of pre-cum.

The tip of his finger touched the top of your lip and he whispered again. You heard a softly whispered word. It sounded like a name, but then you heard nothing else except the staticky sound of his rough fingers gripping your ears. Suddenly, he was pulling your sensitive ears and driving your mouth to pump faster and faster.

Your eyes closed as you began suckling him in earnest. Whatever he was muttering, wherever his mind had taken him, you had no idea as his hips began bucking in and out. In a few quick thrusts, his seed spurted in your mouth and filled your aching cheeks.

His hands fell from your ears and his eyes grew hard as you swallowed. “Do not spill a drop, songbird.”

You nodded, letting the last of it slide down your throat. He took an slightly unsteady breath and gave you a nod in return. You opened your mouth obediently, showing him that nothing remained.

For a moment more, his eyes remained soft. His focus was still distant, as though he was waking from a deep sleep. A rough finger traced the shape of your distended upper lip.

“A sweet bow, this, that draws when I will it,” he muttered, but not to you.

You slowly closed your mouth. His dreamy look told you that he did not see you at all as he traced the outline of your lips again. Whatever his mood was, you certainly did not want to break it and risk whatever vile punishment he could think up.

He whispered again. A name—you were sure of it this time—but it was not yours. 

Your mouth opened to ask him what he meant, but his eyes hardened and he pulled back angrily. Your gaze dropped and your carefully tucked him back in, zipping up and buttoning and hooking. He grunted as you slid the buckle into place and then stood to lead you back to the blue bowl. As you knelt in silence, he picked up the bowl, cleaned it out and refilled it to set it down in front of you.

He and his dragons were apparently done with you for the night as he shoved your collar down and put your face into the bowl. You drank in as much as you could before he pulled your face up. With an impatient grunt, he set another blue bowl down with—whatever that was in it—for you to eat. You gobbled it quickly—a mix of broth soaked rice with minced vegetables that had long since grown cold—before returning to the first bowl to rinse it down.

He led you back to the bathroom, let you wash your face and hands and brush your teeth. He picked up the tight leather gloves and the watch as you went potty. Then, he led you back to the cage. He idly released this catch and moved that lever and the tiny space grew to its rather limited full size. You would be able to sit up and stretch out a little during the night, a mercy that sent a small thrill through your body.

Within moments, you were inside again for the night. He threaded the length of chain to your collar again and pressed the small button to test the electronic device on your ankle. It beeped three times and he nodded distantly in approval before closing the wire door. 

His phone rang and he answered it in a hushed and urgent voice. You heard him mention a club and a time. Then a soft sound that seemed disappointed as he asked whoever it was if they were sure they couldn’t make it. He grunted, turning his back to you and finally ended the call with another soft and tender word before setting the phone on the charger base.

Stiffly he walked away to the closet and began undressing for bed with a displeased hum. The dragons appeared, weaving in sleepy curves and they curled on top of your cage with a soft purr. You heard the hangers scrape as he hung up his suit and the rustle as he set aside the shirt to be washed and pressed. The dragon on the bottom glanced over in his direction and chirped softly.

“Sing, songbird,” he commanded cooly from wherever he was beyond your sight.

You whimpered, “My throat....”

“I do not want to hear your excuses,” he snapped impatiently. “The dragons picked you out for their pleasure and they like hearing you sing.”

You had been a singer at a club, working with a couple of kids from the local college as they played smooth jazz and crooning ballads, when the sleazy manager told you that you needed to meet a customer. The Shimada Scion had been in the audience, seated far enough back from the stage that you didn’t quite catch his face in the glare of the spotlight. He bought you a drink and began talking to you about mundane things—how often you sang here, was there anywhere else you went, did you have an agent.

You had been giddy, thinking that the powerful man was going to give you a boost in the cutthroat world of entertainment. Then, you noticed the few grains of powder in the bottom of your empty glass. You gaped at it and scowled at him, but your mind quickly slipped away to a dizzy and uncontrollable place. He paid the bill with an air of boredom, spoke to the fawning manager in a quiet voice, and then lifted you out of your chair to lead you to his car.

When you came around, you were collared and in the little cage. A maid was sitting nearby, watching you. When she opened the cage to let you go to the bathroom, you screamed and punched her. You staggered upright and bolted down the hallway, desperate to try and find your way outside.

You did—you managed to make it out of the kitchen exit—but the last door did not open onto an anonymous street or a block of houses. It opened onto a large, flat area where rows of men were kicking and punching in a steady rhythm that looked like a choreographed dance. You heard a nervous, clicking sound behind you as you gaped at the men, the huge walls surrounding the courtyard, the fidgety guards at intervals. Your mind went blank as you tried to imagine where you were, and then there was a flash of electric blue and your world went dark again.

When you came to, you had the electric bracelet on your ankle and the long chain threaded through the bars of the cage to your collar. Instead of a maid, the two dragons were curled up in a friendly pile and watched you with predatory eagerness until Hanzo let you out for their pleasures and your punishments for running in the first place. Now, he kept all the doors locked and you were constantly watched, chained or contained—and usually all of the above at once.

You wondered who he was disappointed to not see tonight. You wondered if he kept whoever it was chained. You wondered if there was a cage somewhere else that he opened, perhaps even opened eagerly. You wondered if he ever was eager to see anyone.

“Sing, songbird,” he commanded again, turning out a light and plunging your corner into a dusky darkness. “Sing my pets to sleep.”

You whined again and the dragons stirred restlessly above you. A blue eye glittered down at you and then it gave you a toothy, lustful grin. Somehow, you were less than eager to rebel and spark another period of amorous attention, so you did the completely logical, correct and expected thing.

You began singing, crooning their favorite lullaby.


End file.
